"Maybe we need to slow down, just in case the others are coming. It's still crazy early."
"Spring on a whim? That's no good. Back in Montana, me and Bobby Smouldre were the mother fucking baddest boogeymen in the state! Didn't matter if it was hob, or gob, or punk kid," Grobbler hushes and grins menacingly. "We scared them shitless."
"Cities are different man, there's no spooking people. Everybody's packing heat, and the Blues are everywhere."
"Cops, rockstar, cops. You pull the smallest prank, and it can still land you in deep shit."
"One time, we found this hedge trail right? And it leads to some chick's bedroom closet! Which is just classic. So me and Bobby, we put on some cheap Halloween masks, right? And we jump out right in the middle of the night. Just Boo! Real stupid stuff."
"And that woman FREAKS OUT, goes running into the street in her nightie, wakes all the neighbors, it was hilarious. We sneak back into the Hedge, and nobody knows any better."
"Pull that shit here, you get tazed and then slapped with six months. Different. World."
"Yeah, right." Pryderi rubs his face with his hands before running his fingers through his hair. "Man, to be honest, I have no fucking clue what I'm spposed to do next. Like, should I just keep low, or go back to trying to make something of my life? At the moment, all I've got to do teach snotty little kids how to play guitar or hit anything resembling a key."
"Yea... been feeling like I've been hitting a lot of dead ends lately, so... I guess I can see where you're coming from. But eff that rockstar, you don't have to hide the rest of your damn life. Who's that lady, what's her name? The Mother Goose lady... the one with the kids show? Anyway, she sure as shit doesn't hide herself." Grobbler thinks for a long moment.
"I've got something to cheer you up... pull a prank with me." The look in Grobbler's eyes is just devilish. "You want to feel like you're in control of your own life again, you want to feel alive? Let's spook some asshole senseless. What do you say?"
"I'm not sure, dude," Pryderi replies, obviously apprehensive, "that warning was pretty heavy. And anyway, I wouldn't know what to do. Saying that, I have been known to make people weep with a decent dirge."
Grobbler hasn't been this talkative in a long time. Maybe as much as he hates to admit it, just being around Pryderi puts him at ease, lets him speak freely, inspires him (admittedly to reckless meanness, but still). Goddamned Spring Muse...
"Make people weep? What, you looking to bore me to death? Alcohol and peer pressure demand that you man up. Hell, if you just play the Jaws riff that'll be helpful enough!"
"Whatever, Purple-Pimp," Pryderi says, laughing. "I could play an empty cereal box with a single elastic band wrapped round it and still make it sound fucking good! Listen to this..." Pryderi takes the light green and yellow beech wood acoustic guitar out of its case and sets it up on his thighs.
Spurred on by Grobbler's words and the few whiskey's currently running through his system, Pryderi starts to pluck the guitar, producing the Jaws theme, effortlessly.
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